


Solace

by samyazaz



Series: Pornathon 2012 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Awesome Freya, Character Death, First Time, M/M, One of My Favorites, Post-Apocalypse, Team Gluttony, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samyazaz/pseuds/samyazaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's known around campus as that weird kid who wears hand-knit arm warmers and petitioned the school to serve organic vegetables in the dining commons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Summerpornathon 2012's week 2 challenge

Merlin's known around campus as that weird kid who wears hand-knit arm warmers and petitioned the school to serve organic vegetables in the dining commons. He's generally treated as a bit of an oddball, at least until the epidemic hits at the start of senior year.

Merlin's watched enough National Geographic while procrastinating on homework to know that trying to go anywhere with a plague in the air is asking for trouble, so he hunkers down in his apartment with his girlfriend, Freya, and they laugh about the fact that her experiments with canning mean they're probably the only students in town not living off of booze and ramen.

#

A week after the city shuts down, someone bangs on their door. They huddle out of sight, clinging to each other.

"Please," the stranger calls. "I see your candles at night. _Please_. I swear I'm not sick, but the water in my building's been shut off."

Freya's mouth stretches in an expression that could mean anything. Merlin sighs and opens the door to the frat boy neighbor whose raucous parties always ruin Merlin's Friday nights. "Great," Merlin groans, and the look he sends Freya says, _This is your fault_.

#

It's not long before winter's in full swing, and the knitting that Arthur laughed at is the only thing keeping them warm. They ration Freya's spaghetti sauce and huddle together under quilts. Survival has long since trumped any need for personal space.

With the cold comes chapped lips and cracked skin. Freya goes out one morning and comes back with armloads of abandoned thrift store sweaters for Merlin to unravel and repurpose. Two days later, she starts to cough.

"It's just a cold," Merlin pleads while she tries to pull away. "You always get colds in winter."

She locks herself in the bedroom. Merlin begs her to let him in, but gets no answer. He sits against the door all night, listening to her crying, and coughing.

In the morning, he wakes with a blanket tucked around him. The door's still locked. Behind it, all is quiet. Merlin calls Freya's name, then shouts it, pounding his hands bloody until Arthur drags him away.

"Stop this!" He gets in Merlin's face and gives him a violent shake. "She was stronger than this. Now you have to be, too."

 _Was_ makes Merlin sob until he thinks he's broken something inside and will never stop. Arthur brings water and blankets and stands on the other side of the room looking lost.

#

Merlin shivers through the night, too used to sleeping curled against Freya's warmth. Halfway to dawn, he rouses to a muttered, "For Christ's sake," and a wash of cold air under the blankets. He mutters a sleepy protest until a strip of blazing heat presses against his side, and Arthur's arms wrap around his middle.

"There. _Now_ will you sleep?"

Merlin doesn't think it's possible without Freya's coconut-scented hair tangling across the pillow. But the next thing he knows is the glare of the morning sun and Arthur standing over him with a bowl of cold albóndigas soup and a stubborn expression.

Merlin eats because Arthur insists, and afterward, Merlin stares at him and wonders when this spoiled frat boy turned into someone so reliable.

#

When darkness falls and the cold deepens, Arthur slips in beside Merlin without a word. Merlin lets him press close and tries not to feel guilty for enjoying his warmth.

#

This time, morning comes with Arthur still at Merlin's back, the jut of an erection denting his hip. Merlin ought to slip away, but it's nice, and it'll be cold and lonely outside the blankets. He feigns sleep, instead, until Arthur rouses with a murmured, "Merlin?" and his arms tighten across Merlin's chest.

Merlin turns to face him, heart thumping. Arthur's very close and he has morning breath and it's too soon and Merlin shouldn't let this happen and it's fucked and somehow it's necessary.

This time, Arthur's "Merlin?" is an uncertain query.

Merlin slides in, face buried against his throat. Arthur's hips flex, a testing thrust. When Merlin doesn't pull away, Arthur's arms wrap him like a vise. "I'm sorry," he breathes against the crown of Merlin's head as their hands trace each other's skin. Heat and breath builds between them until it's easy to forget the cold outside. "I'm so sorry."

It's not love. It isn't even sex, not really. It's solace, and it's a reminder. Even at the end of the world, life goes on.


End file.
